Solas slowly drifted back into consciousness, warm and contented. Something soft wrapped around his waist, and he felt legs shift at the other end of the couch. Dorian, probably, trying to kick him off. His housemate was like a damned cat, colonizing every bit of free space.
"Go back to bed, Dorian," he mumbled, and pulled the blanket toward his chin.
The hands that gently lifted his headphones weren't Dorian's. The hair that tickled his cheek smelled like coffee and vanilla. Solas's eyes flew open, and he found himself looking up at his lovely trickster. She stole a quick kiss, a clumsy brush against his lips, before sitting back up.
"Nice of you to join the waking world," she said.
Solas blinked, taking stock of his situation. She had brought the blanket, covering him from the waist down. His legs were splayed across hers; he should have pulled away, but his limbs still felt like warm lead.
"I'm sorry," he said, confused. He was pretty sure they hadn't arranged to see each other today. "Have I kept you waiting?"
"Waiting? I just came by to drop off some hangover tea. Dorian invited me to watch TV with him."
Solas turned his head and groaned. The screen showed the stupid Orlesian neckbeard who insisted that elves were from the moon, hands waving wildly at his invisible audience. Chuckling at his expression, she picked up the remote and muted the TV.
"Solas is up," she called over her shoulder. "Would you mind pouring him some tea?"
"You're the cute girl," he heard Dorian yell back. "You play nursemaid."
"Well, I can't move, he's on top of me!"
At that moment, Solas would have given almost anything to shut her up. Or evaporate. He yanked the blanket right up over his head and pulled his legs from her lap, but it was too late. He could already hear Dorian's approaching footsteps.
"I didn't know you were so open with your affections." Solas could practically hear the shit-eating grin in Dorian's voice. "How scandalous."
"Ass."
"Eloquent too. You've found yourself a charmer."
His trickster laughed, and Solas peeked out from under the blanket in spite of himself. Dorian was handing her a steaming mug, which she in turn held out to Solas.
"I think so," she said softly.
He hadn't known it was possible for someone to smile with their whole body. Everything from the gentle gleam in her eyes to the way she held the mug seemed to draw him in. Almost without thinking, he sat up and took the mug from her. Then the smell of hot ginger flooded his nostrils--and thoroughly ruined the moment.
"I hate tea," he said, staring down into the steaming amber liquid.
She rolled her eyes. "I knew you'd say that. But you like honey, so drink it."
Dorian chuckled. "Are you always this bossy with regulars?"
"Just the smartasses," she shot back.
Solas wrinkled his nose, blew on the tea, and took one very careful sip. The burst of bitter almost immediately vanished under a wave of overwhelming sweet, and maybe some lemon as well. The second sip came easier than the first, and he let out a sigh at the warmth spreading through his chest. Even Dorian un-muting the TV couldn't ruin his moment of peace.
The elf conspiracy theorist had disappeared, replaced by a bespectacled dwarf expounding on the historical use of lyrium as an aphrodisiac.
Dorian grinned at the two of them. "Settle in. This should be edifying."
"Actually," said Solas, "lyrium does have a short-term beneficial effect on physical stamina and pain tolerance." And he went back to sipping the honeyed tea, relishing the stunned silence.
Retour en haut
(Solavellan)
Amazing!
